


Secret Identity

by Katzedecimal



Series: Frenemy Mine [4]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: American Sign Language, Angst, Deaf Character, Developing Friendships, Gen, Season 2, Sign Language, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 08:18:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5368142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Flash's fateful encounter with Zoom, Team Flash has his back all the way.... though they might have forgotten something important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secret Identity

The notification light was flashing. Barry reached for his phone to see that he'd received a video message. He opened his Glide app and watched Hartley sign, 'How-are you feeling tonight?' He noted that the time stamp was only fifteen minutes ago, so Hartley might still be up.

'Not-good,' he signed back. He thought about how to sign what he wanted to say, deciding on _'heal fast, time compress, pain compress, same.'_ \-- 'I heal quickly so it's fast, but all the pain gets condensed too. You awake?'

A few moments later, another video message arrived. 'Still awake,' Hartley signed, 'You?'

'Can't sleep,' Barry replied, 'Hurts too-much.'

'I-understand,' Hartley nodded sympathetically. 

'Thanks for Gliding-me. I appreciate-it.'

Hartley's smile was warm, 'Any-time.'

Barry thumbed off his phone and set it aside, then turned the lights down to try to get some more non-sleep. Half an hour later, he became aware of a sound. _Is that a... flute?_ he thought, puzzled, _Where's it coming from? Wait, is it coming from.. here?_ He rolled over, suddenly realising that there was a shape standing beside his bed. " **Hartley?!** " he whispered, "How did you get in here?!"

The Pied Piper lowered the flute from his mouth, grinning, "Dude, the security in this place is shite. What is the point of having coded locks if you're not going to use them?"

"If they catch you here..."

"They won't. I walked right past them," Hartley grinned.

Barry remembered about Hartley's invisibility flute and shook his head, "Unbelievable. But what are you doing here?"

"I came to see if I could help you sleep," Hartley said, holding up the flute. 

It was the same flute but Barry noticed a few new levers on it. "You've come to try out another trick on me."

Hartley shrugged, unabashed, "And that too. You've heard of isochronic tones?" Barry shook his head. "They're subsonic tones that vibrate at the same frequencies as brainwaves. You don't actually 'hear' them, they're carried through the bones - like when you're at a rock concert and the bass shakes your heart? This works on a similar principle, if I got it right."

Barry shook his head again, puzzled, "How does that help me sleep?"

"By inducing the sleep brainwaves in your head. Your brainwaves should synchronise with the tone frequencies and be carried along with them."

"Even through the pain?"

Hartley smiled gently, "Even through the pain."

Barry smiled. For a Bad Guy, Hartley could be awfully nice sometimes. "Okay. Let's give it a try. At this point, I'll try anything."

"I know what you mean." Hartley put the flute to his lips and began to play.

* * * * 

The lights flicked on and off several times and Hartley looked up. He smiled and signed, 'Hi! You appear better, up-and-walking.'

'Thanks for helping-me,' Barry signed. The past three days, the Pied Piper had appeared at Barry's bedside to soothe him to sleep. He woke up feeling relatively rested and grateful. 

'Any-time. What's-up?' Barry took out his phone, not wanting to make Hartley put his implants back in, and showed him the electronic tickets he had purchased. 'Costs how-much?' 

'Nothing,' Barry replied, then typed on his phone, "It's sponsored so no charge. It's meant for families to get experience."

Hartley grinned, 'We-two aren't a family.'

'I-asked-them, they said it's OK, we can go-there. You want-to?'

'A whole weekend? Your friends, family don't-mind?'

Barry hesitated. 'I need time away,' he signed finally.

'Oh-I-see." Hartley watched him for a moment before nodding once, 'Yes. Let's-go.'

* * * *

The ASL immersion weekend had been exhausting but exhilarating. And a lot of fun. 'That was a great idea,' Hartley beamed as they walked. 

'My favourite game was Battleship,' Barry signed, using the rhetorical-question grammar he'd picked up.

'We'll play it again,' Hartley agreed, 'Good way to practice fingerspelling and numbers.'

They'd gone for coffee after the class ended. It started raining while they were on the bus and by the time they had reached the abandoned building that was Hartley's safehouse, they were both wet and thoroughly chilled. Hartley went to kick on the oil heater and find some towels. Barry sipped his coffee and looked around. When he'd first stumbled in here, he'd thought there were homeless squatters living here. He realised he wasn't wrong about that. He wondered whether Hartley actually had a home, somewhere to live. Disowned, disabled, unemployed - probably not. He took the offered towel - old, thrift store - and rubbed his hair dry. 

His phone chimed again. "Someone wants to get ahold of you," Hartley observed. 

Barry nodded, "They want to know where I am. I'm not answering." 

Hartley arched an eyebrow. Barry had a strong connection to his friends and family, so for him to be avoiding them like this was unusual. "What happened?"

"They want me to... be The Flash, I guess. They think...." Barry sighed, unable to explain, and shook his head, "I feel like I've failed them as well."

Hartley thought in silence for several moments before lifting his hands, 'What-happened?' 

Barry shook his head, unable to put it into words. Then he realised he might not need words. Using a combination of the basic ASL he'd learned, and pantomime, he showed how Zoom had beaten him, broken his spine and humiliated him on television, for all the city to see. 

Hartley watched, seeing a lot more than just the narrative. His jaw tensed, remembering. "They want you to be The Flash," he said quietly, "But what about Barry Allen? It sounds like Team Flash has failed Barry Allen."

Barry stared at him, a thousand emotions flitting across his face. Without a word, he got up and walked out. The door banged closed on the wind. 

Hartley turned to work on his flute and he waited. 

It was an hour before Barry returned, carrying a bag of curry take-out. Hartley silently handed him a mug of instant hot chocolate and began dishing up the food. "I'm sorry," Barry said quietly. 

'What-for?' Hartley signed with a mouthful of dal and naan. Signing was great for talking with your mouth full. 

"For running out on you like that."

Hartley shrugged, 'It's-fine.' He swallowed and continued, "You're dealing with a mountain of shit right now, I get it. I've been there. Well, not _exactly_ there, but I know what it's like to have a tonne drop on you and have to deal with it by yourself, and you've been..."

Hartley trailed off and Barry prompted him, "I've been what?"

Hartley closed his eyes for a moment. "After the explosion, when I woke up deafened, I tried going home. My parents threw me out again because being deafened wasn't enough to overcome being gay. And we've been doing the ASL lessons together, and you haven't arrested me, and then you suggested this immersion weekend and it was a lot of fun, I had a great time and..." he trailed off again, blinking hard. 

Barry stared at him. He'd suggested the sign language lessons as a peace offering, after the Pied Piper had taken him into his safehouse, after Ronnie's death. Barry had suggested the immersion weekend partly to get some space away from his friends and it **had** been fun. He'd had no idea that it meant as much to Hartley as Hartley's truce had meant to Barry. "You've done a lot for me, too," he said softly, "And you know who I am but you haven't sold me out."

"Well, nobody would pay for that," Hartley chuckled.

Barry blinked, startled, "What?"

"The people who want to pay for The Flash's identity want to know if you're someone like, I dunno, Oliver Queen or Ray Palmer."

"Or Hartley Rathaway?" Barry grinned wickedly. 

"Or Hartley Rathaway, right! The Flash is a nerdy, underpaid forensic crime scene analyst? -- nah they're not going to pay for that." They both laughed. 

'I had a good time, too,' Barry signed, 'It helped-me, in a lot of ways.'


End file.
